


Creepy Craw(ford)ly

by YeahScience



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Arachnophobia, Crack, Fluff and Crack, OOC!Corey, One Shot, Randomness, Spiders, Teravainen and Panarin are there for literally one sentence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-28
Updated: 2016-04-28
Packaged: 2018-06-05 03:50:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6688018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YeahScience/pseuds/YeahScience
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The boys are traveling, and Jonny gets a call in the middle of the night. The call is coming from the room next to his. That’s Crow’s room. Worried about what he could possibly want at- Jesus, 3:30 in the morning- Jonny answers. The goalie sounds timidly terrified over the phone and asks that he hurry over. Being the excellent and paternal captain that he is, Jonny goes to see what’s wrong with Crow. It isn’t what he expected. </p>
<p>The spider was barely the size of a dime. </p>
<p>“Can you kill it?” Corey asked under his breath, as though the miniscule bug would attack him if he were too loud. </p>
<p>TL;DR Arachnophobe Corey wakes up Jonny to come kill a spider in his bathroom.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Creepy Craw(ford)ly

**Author's Note:**

> My first publication on AO3! And my first hockey RPF! Un-beta’d. This is set in the 2016-17 preseason, so all trades/stats/scores/schedules etc. are completely made up by me. And no, I don’t truly think Corey is actually arachnophobic. Obviously, this is just a work of fiction. I got the idea when I saw a spider as I was watching the 2016 Cup Finals. It made me chuckle, and I wrote it so that it may do the same to you! ^_^
> 
> Warnings: Language. Non-graphic insect death. (Does that even merit a warning?!)
> 
> Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoy!

The Hawks were on the road. First preseason game against the Avs. Their flight had landed about midnight local time, and paired with their 2OT exhibition game against the Bruins two days ago, the guys were tired as hell. Teravainen and Panarin had even fallen asleep on each others’ shoulders during the bus ride to the hotel. Kane had slunk into the room and collapsed on the bed with his dress shoes and chunky headphones still on. Damn, Jonny wanted nothing more than to jump right into his own bed and sleep for 12 freakin’ hours. But he was the captain, and he had early-morning responsibilities. Kaner would get to sleep in, lucky bastard. 

Regardless, Jonny peeled off his wrinkled clothes and crawled into the crisp hotel sheets. Then a feeling began to wash over him: another season, another 82 games. Don’t get him wrong; he loved hockey, lived and breathed it. But there’s something disheartening about hotel beds, isn’t there? They’re… cold. Lonely. 

This was the thought that shepherded the captain into a deep, borderline comatose slumber. That is, until the phone rang. 

It was shrill and resonated throughout the tiny hotel room. Jonny was thrown into wakefulness immediately. Kaner, however, was in the same exact position. He had not moved an inch, and grunted in protest each time the phone chimed in. Jonny propped himself up on his elbows and leaned over to answer the phone. As he was picking up the receiver, the glaring red LED lights of the alarm clock informed him that it was exactly 3:30 in the morning. 

Shit, this better be pretty damn good. “Hello?” Jonny croaked. He even appalled himself with his morning breath. A female voice chimed over the line, and Jonny initially raised his eyebrow in intrigue. All right, Kaner, who is it this time? But he soon learned, to his minor disappointment, that she was naught but a recording. 

“Call from-” A pause. “Room 2. 0. 6. Please stay on the line.” The fraction of a second gave Jonny’s brain just enough time to remember that 206 was the room next to him. Crow’s room. Then he began to worry. What in the blue hell could Corey want right now? It’s 3:30 in the GD morning! Nevertheless, he was prepared for any kind of crisis that the goalie could throw at him.

“Tazer?” came Crow’s voice creeping along the telephone wire. He sounded tense, which only added to his captain’s worries. Kaner groaned in protest from his bed when Jonny snapped the light on, but Tazer hushed him sharply. 

“Corey?” he prodded. “What is it?” Every few seconds the line was muddied with noise as Corey breathed into the speaker. “Are you okay?” Scenarios, terrible emergency scenarios, began to flash through Jonny’s head. His heart began to pound like it did during a breakaway. 

“Can you come over here, please?” Shit, he sounds like a little kid. Something must be really wrong. Jonny did not hesitate to respond, not for a second. 

“Absolutely,” he said firmly. “Stay right there, buddy, I’m coming over.” Jonny leapt out of bed, neglecting to put on pants or even his slippers. 

“Pat,” he barked. No response from the fully business-casually dressed kid spread out on top of his sheets. “Pat!” He tried again, knowing it was in vain. He did, however, elicit a small snore. “I have to go check on Corey.” Moving as quickly as he could, but delicately so as not to disturb anyone else around them (nor, God forbid, his roommate). He grabbed his key card and slid out the door, latching it softly behind him.

Corey was already standing in his door jamb, clad in boxers and a t-shirt. His hands were busy wringing nervously and his hair exploded from his scalp in ragged spikes. However, he did not look sick or hurt. Good, Jonny thought with savory relief, but then paused again. So why does he need me?

“Corey?” He asked. God, I sound like a soccer mom. Brooding over her children. The image was as humorous as it was repulsive. But whatever. Corey needed Jonny for something, and he'd be damned if he'd let his main goaltender hang out to dry. “What is it? Are you okay?” Corey nodded and reached a hand up to ruffle his hair. Instead of replying, he just bit his lip, motioned for Jonny to follow him, and walked into the room. 

When Jonny walked in, Crow was standing right in the middle of the narrow hallway, just past the door to the bathroom. His eyebrows were knotted tightly with fear and his eyes flashed between Jonny and the bathroom floor.

“The hell…?” Jonny muttered to himself when he took another, tiny step into the goalie’s room. Crow offered a single finger, pointing at the tiled floor. Jonny didn’t see anything at first. But when he did, he could barely hold back a snort of disbelief. 

The spider was barely the size of a dime. 

Jonny merely huffed in utter incredulousness. A fucking spider? 

“Are you fu-” Jonny stopped again. He had to be sure, he really had to be sure that this was happening. “A spider? Is that what this is about?” Jonny crossed his arms and shifted his weight to one foot. Now he really felt like a mom, here to convince her son that there were no monsters underneath the bed. Except her son was a 200 pound, 30-year old professional ice hockey player. 

Corey’s face betrayed no trace of shame: just fear. He wagged his head up and down as an affirmation. “Can you kill it?” he asked under his breath, as though the miniscule bug would attack him if he were too loud. 

“Crow,” Jonny chastised the netminder in his trademark serious voice, tinged with irony. “You stand in front of 100 mile-per-hour slapshots, and you’re afraid of this little bitch?” Holy crap, Jonny wanted to just burst out laughing. If this was a joke, then it was worth getting up at 3:30 for. But Crow wasn’t too much of a prankster, and his demeanor seemed entirely sincere. Which was a little alarming. 

“I got up to piss,” Corey started. “And it was just… sitting there.” He raised both his fists to his mouth, like he was trying to hide behind his trapper and blocker. At this point, Jonny was getting fed up. He wanted to go the hell back to bed, and he had to kill that spider first. 

Jonny stepped into the bathroom (“Be careful!” Crow hissed), trying to avoid having his shadow cross over the spider so it wouldn’t go darting away. He snatched up a tissue and calmly leaned over the tiny little bug. For a few seconds, he hovered the tissue over it, then quickly snapped his hand over the thing like Corey when he traps a loose puck. Nonchalantly, he picked it up and smooshed it in his hands a few times.

Corey gulped. “Is it dead?” 

Jonny huffed and offered him the balled-up-spider-guts tissue. “You wanna check?” he asked pointedly. When Crow shook his head no furiously, Jonny tossed the remains in the toilet and flushed them down. Corey breathed a heavy sigh of relief. 

“Thank God,” he murmured and wiped at his forehead. “And thank you, Tazer.” Jonny could not formulate a response. The summation of fatigue and utter disbelief had caught up to him and rendered him silent. So he merely gave a curt nod and got the hell out of that room. Crow sent good-night wishes his way, and Jonny only walked to his room faster. 

Jonny crept back into his room and tried his best not to disturb Pat, who had since shifted onto his side. Nevertheless, the kid mumbled, “The fuck was that about?”

Jonny slumped into his bed and shook his head slowly. “I have no idea, Pat. No fuckin’ idea.”


End file.
